Queen of the Night

opportunity to settle outside Rome. Some had brought their wives and families; others had simply deserted their roots for a new future at the heart of the Empire.
    Secundus and Crispus did most of the talking. Born storytellers, they described their service in Britain, conjuring up images of deep forests, lonely wind-swept moorlands, freezing winters when all was carpeted in snow, followed by springs bursting with light and summers which brought the brilliant green grasslands and cornfields to life. They talked of warm breezes, a golden sun and rain-washed blue skies. Above all they described the Great Wall. Many of the tribes regarded this as the work of the gods with its soaring crenellated wall, watchtowers, signal posts, mile castles and great five-mile fortresses. The two men described the boredom of military life, offset by the terrors which lay beyond the wall, where savage Picts and Caledonians, superb fighters, slipped like wraiths through the tangled heather to probe, attack and ambush. The savagery and cunning of these tribesmen was something they had never forgotten, a terrifying nightmare constantly lurking just beyond the Roman line, ever vigilant, ruthless and merciless. Claudia listened fascinated, aware of the day dying, the darkness deepening, the flames of the oil lamps growing stronger. She became less aware of the peppery, spicy odour of the room, with its wisps of black smoke, whilst every time she looked at the carving of Epona, it seemed more lifelike. She noticed, however, that all three veterans deliberately skirted the crowning glory of their careers, the ambush and annihilation of that Pictish war band. At last
    Crispus drew their story to a close. Claudia waited for Stathylus to step into her trap, which he obligingly did.
    'What has this,' he hissed, leaning against the table, 'got to do with two of our comrades being killed here in Rome?'
    'Everything.'
    'What do you mean?'
    'Look.' Claudia pushed away her wine cup. 'Two of your companions have been brutally murdered in this city. Petilius in his chamber, Lucius in an alleyway. The slums of Rome are full of men and women who take a life as easily as they would snuff out an oil-wick. However, both your companions were killed in the Pictish way, a knife to the belly, throat slit, then their genitals cut off, the penis placed in the dead man's hand. I understand the Picts do the same to dishonour enemy dead.'
    All three men, eyes on Claudia, nodded. Crispus muttered a curse under his breath; Claudia ignored it.
    'So why,' she continued, 'have two of your companions been killed in such a barbaric fashion? The logical conclusion is that it has something to do with your service in the Fretenses along the Great Wall. Some demon from the past has come prowling through the darkness to hunt you.'
    Stathylus made a rude sound with his lips and quickly picked up his cup. Claudia could see he was frightened; the gesture was meant to divert her.
    'Something else.' Claudia tapped the tabletop. 'General Aurelian recently invited you all to a reunion at his villa. You attended?'
    'Of course we did.' Secundus spoke up. 'General Aurelian always favoured his men; this year it was our turn.'
    'Yet afterwards, Petilius went to see the General about something urgent but the General was too busy to grant him an audience. Do you know what Petilius wanted?'
    'We asked that ourselves,' Stathylus replied, 'but Petilius kept a close mouth; he was always like that. Perhaps he wanted to keep the information to himself so as to get some reward; we never found out.'
    'But it followed that reunion,' Claudia insisted. 'Did any of you see anything untoward, something from the past?'
    A chorus of denials greeted her words.
    'Anyway,' she sighed, 'let's go back to the past, the Great Wall. The destruction of that Pictish war band.'
    'Some eighteen years ago,' Secundus declared, ignoring Stathylus' warning look. 'It happened eighteen years ago.'
    'And yet,' Claudia insisted, 'all this time later, two of your companions have been brutally murdered, in a manner very similar to the abuse perpetrated by your Pictish enemies. Now,' she smiled faintly, 'there are no Pictish warriors in Rome. Why such deaths? True, they might be Pictish slaves, but,' she shrugged, 'how would they recognise you eighteen years later? Moreover, doesn't the report say the entire war band you trapped was wiped out?'
    Again there was agreement.
    'The ambush also took place at night,' Murranus declared.